


An Evening

by Derry Rain (smakibbfb)



Category: Strange Empire (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28182270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smakibbfb/pseuds/Derry%20Rain
Summary: A small coda, and a quiet moment between friends.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	An Evening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesireeArmfeldt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/gifts).



The night air prickled at Rebecca’s skin as she sat on the rough wooden stool outside the home she was calling hers for now. She watched, idly, as the breeze raised goosebumps on her arm; rough, when she ran her fingers over them. The wind carried the smell of woodsmoke and cooking meat to her, and another scent too, one that always lingered underneath.  _ The stench of moral decay _ , Thomas had told her once, but she knew it to be the sweat-soaked smell of stale whiskey, of damp clothing on unwashed bodies, of the grim farrago of blood, piss, vomit… she wrinkled her nose. It was not that she minded the smell - queasiness was not a failing she would ever have permitted of herself - but there was still some part of her that hoped the air would be cleaner here. Perhaps, now things were changing, it would. She smiled, a small private thing, between her and the growing dusk; maybe Thomas in his unhappy fancy had had the right of it all along.

She did not bother to turn her head as quiet footsteps approached. Rebecca could tell near every person in camp by the way their bodies inhabited the space, the way the ground, the grass, the buildings shaped around them as they moved. The pace was measured, certain in its uncertainty; she greeted Kat Loving’s approach by shifting the low stool so that the other woman could draw in close, lean against the small post beside. Kat hesitated only a moment before doing so.

They did not always speak, when Kat came to see her, and this night seemed to be no exception to that tradition. It was something that Rebecca liked about Kat. Liked, perhaps, or cherished might be the better word for it. Few people in her life had allowed her to exist without explanation and Kat asked her for none. She would come, would stand and stay, like some guardian statue, while Rebecca wrote her notes, or sketched her latest thoughts into life on paper. Sometimes she would bring small curiosities for Rebecca to inspect, an odd stone, a piece of old bone, or the body of an animal Rebecca had not yet had the opportunity to explore up close. Tonight though, Kat bore nothing but her presence, and Rebecca loved her all the same.

She opened her sketchbook to its latest page and wondered if Kat would be surprised at its contents. It had been a bright day, full of laughter and fresh promises, and Rebecca had found herself walking through its centre, caught up in the chatter as if she had been a part of it too. It had brought to her mind old happiness, the sound of Emily’s laugh, the press of her lips against Rebecca’s temple. But even in the reminisce, the memories had felt faded, like Rebecca could only catch their echo, and amongst the joy of women who thought she could not feel, she had felt her heart break all over again.

Mrs Briggs looked up at her from the paper, sharp eyes ever watchful. Here, Isabelle leaned on the frame of a window, there Kelly and Robin wrestled in soft lines and half finished movement. Rebecca frowned and drew a thumb over the next sketch, shading the questioning moue of Morgan’s lips into something more like a wish she had once made. She picked up her pencil, tapping the end against her lower lip, and turned the page.

Not too far away, a voice began to raise itself in song. Miss Logan, Rebecca thought, pausing for a moment to listen. She looked up to see Kat’s head turned too, towards the sound, but not so much that she could not see the way the woman’s mouth tilted upwards at the corners. Whatever energy it was that had infected their town here, it clearly had not thought to spare Mrs Loving either, and Rebecca could not help but revel in that small achievement; every woman in this place carried her grief around her like a cloak, but Kat’s seemed to always be just on the verge of choking her. Any respite was something to be protected.

“It sounds like there’s a party happening,” Rebecca said, pencil between her teeth. Kat seemed to start, as if she had forgotten that there was anyone else with her at all, before looking down to meet Rebecca’s gaze.

“Not a party,” she said, “just a good day, I think.”

“It seems to me there are more of those now than there used to be,” Rebecca replied. Kat seemed to mull it over for a moment, before nodding. That rare, elusive smile widened, before faltering and falling back into her customary stoic expression. 

“Perhaps,” Kat said, and turned away again.

Miss Logan finished her ditty and immediately launched into another, but it was cut short by a quick scold with no bite to it. There was a giggle and a crash, and a round of riotous catcalling, before the sound settled once more. There was a rhythm to it all, a composition of society that had not quite begun until these recent days; Rebecca felt that she was beginning to learn each movement, and knew that it would not be so very long until she would work out her part in all of it. 

“They are beautiful,” Kat said suddenly. She was still looking out, over towards the treeline, and not at Rebecca. Her slender fingers flickered slightly in the direction of Rebecca’s sketchbook. “DId not know you could do that.”

“You have seen my drawings before,” Rebecca said.

“Bodies,” Kat replied. “Not people.”

Rebecca frowned, but before she could respond, Kat spoke again.

“Did not know you could make them move,” she said; her voice was slow, though there was nothing infuriating, patronising in her tone, nothing to make Rebecca spike and bristle; it was as if she was making herself understand what she was meaning to say. “Half expect my daughters to roll right off the page.”

“Well, I think they did roll right into the creek not long after,” Rebecca told her. Kat barked a laugh. 

“That explains why they did not greet me,” she said. “Snuck round the back of the buildings like I couldn’t see them.” She shook her head. “You have solved a mystery for me today, Mrs Blithely.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

Something shifted in Kat’s posture then; Rebecca watched as she folded herself up, sat down on the step, head level with Rebecca’s shoulder. For a brief, alarmed moment, Rebecca thought she might rest her head against it, and did not know what she would do with such a vulnerable display. To her relief, Kat merely rested her forearms against her knees, and swung her hat in low, slow, circles.

“You’ve helped a lot,” she said. “You should know that. Remember that.” She snorted. “All should remember that.”

Goosebumps raised themselves on Rebecca’s arm again; the breeze was blowing cooler now as the night drew in. It would soon be too dark to see without lighting the lamps, but she was loath to move yet, not with the headiness of companionship wrapped warm around her. With unhurried movements, Rebecca loosed the page from her book, and held it out for Kat to take. More than a few moments passed before it was plucked from her fingers, folded, disappeared into an inside pocket of a long, heavy coat.

“Thank you,” Rebecca replied.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
